


A Far Better Fate Than Wisdom

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner
Genre: Coda, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Yuletide, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-13
Updated: 2008-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1628276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look at you," Alec said, "letting an injured man do all the work."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Far Better Fate Than Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Laura, Sara, and DD for betaing. Title from e.e. cummings. 
> 
> Written for Pun.

When he awoke, Richard thought he was dreaming. A tall man in elegant clothes was shutting the door behind him.

"Hello," said Alec. "I've brought us some fish."

Alec put the packet of fish--wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string--on the table and undid the ties of his black cloak, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle of shadow. He had always had a taste for the theatrical; it was part of what had attracted Richard to him in the first place, the challenge of separating the real from the façade, the person from the attitude.

Richard didn't hesitate in determining whether it was a dream or reality; he rose from the bed and pulled Alec into an embrace. Alec's skin was chilled against his lips, and he smelled of pomade and the same soap Richard had bathed with at the duchess's house. The scent that was odd but pleasing on his own skin was rich and intoxicating on Alec's, wakening the desire he'd felt during Alec's interrogation of him, the desire that was never far off when Alec was near by.

Alec's eyes glinted in the light, and his mouth curved into a half-smile, as if he knew what Richard was thinking.

Richard took his time, savoring the slow loosening of the glittering jet buttons on Alec's morning coat, the smell of fresh linen tickling his nose. He draped the jacket over the back of the chair, enjoying the fine feel of it under the pads of his fingers, though it was not finer than Alec's skin, which always felt better than silk to Richard. Alec's waistcoat followed, dark material sliding quickly and smoothly down his white-clad arms; Richard folded it carefully and put it on the seat of the chair. Next, he gently undid the starched folds of Alec's cravat and laid the fabric neatly on top of the waistcoat. 

The ruffled lawn shirt was next, and Alec winced when it was pulled up over his head. Richard wondered if it had caught on the diamond sparkling in his ear, but was distracted by the mess removing the shirt had made of his neatly groomed hair. He looked more like Alec that way, Richard thought, with his brown hair tousled about his head like a crown, the pale skin of his chest smooth and warm to the touch. Richard brushed fingertips over Alec's heart, the rapid, steady beat of it familiar--yet more confirmation of his presence.

There was a rust-stained bandage on his arm, one that hadn't been there when Richard had last seen him. The source of his wincing, then.

"What--Who--" He stopped, gave Alec a long, appraising look. "What did you do?"

Alec laughed, and though Richard listened closely, there was no hysterical edge to it. "I showed the duchess that there is _always_ a way out." His mouth twisted sardonically. "We'll need to pick the glass out."

Richard laughed, too, in relief, in disbelief, his breath a little shaky as it left his lungs. He led Alec to the chaise lounge, ignoring the amused curl of his lips. He heated up a bowl of water and unwound the bandage carefully. 

"This is going to sting," he said, handing Alec a bottle of the good brandy.

Alec sucked in a pained breath, and laughed again, this time with an undercurrent of rue. "Katherine said it would hurt," he said when Richard gave him a questioning glance. Richard didn't want to think about Katherine. He nodded and gently began washing the shallow cuts on Alec's arm. Alec held the bottle up to his lips and took a long pull. "I told her to let the duchess bully her. She'll have a fine life there if she follows my advice."

Richard looked up from his delicate work, the question on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He had his answer, shirtless and wincing on the chaise lounge. He brought the lantern over, held it close enough to light up Alec's arm, make the veins show blue through the thin skin of his forearm.

"I think I've got it all," said Richard, holding Alec's wrist gently and turning it this way and that under the light. He looked around the room, wondering what to use as a bandage.

"Use my shirt." There was still a hint of amusement in Alec's voice, and Richard didn't want to argue.

He took the once-snowy shirt off the pile of neatly folded clothes and eyed it skeptically. The ruffles had wilted, and the silver lace was rough even against the callused pads of Richard's fingers, but the shirt itself was soft enough to do the job. It smelled of Alec's sweat and blood, and the steam iron that had been used to press it. He tore it into strips, the right sleeve already shredded and stained from the incident. 

Alec hissed when Richard wrapped his arm and pulled the ends of the bandage tight, and he took another long drink of brandy. A drop escaped his lips and he chased it with his tongue, looking proud of himself when he caught it before it went too far. Richard watched, mesmerized for a moment, before he resumed tying off the bandage.

"You take such good care of me," Alec said, and though his tone was mocking, Richard chose to focus on the warmth beneath. If he let Alec's mockery bother him, they'd never get anywhere.

He wiped his hands on what was left of Alec's shirt and took the brandy bottle out of Alec's loose grip, placing it on the floor where hopefully it would remain unspilled.

"What--" Alec protested, but Richard cut him off with a kiss, savoring the heady taste of brandy and heat on his tongue. Alec reached up with his good hand and brushed it through Richard's hair, humming softly with pleasure, and Richard smiled into his mouth.

They kissed for a few minutes, Richard glad of the opportunity to take things slow, to establish that Alec was really, truly here, and not a figment of his imagination. Alec pressed against him, eager and clumsy with his bandaged arm, and Richard huffed a small laugh, pleased with his enthusiasm, but still wanting to draw the whole thing out.

He splayed his hands over Alec's ribs, the bones a cage for his rapidly beating heart, and Alec vibrated under the touch--anger, impatience, and need written in the trembling lines of his body, a language Richard was intimately familiar with and needed no translator to read.

He slid his hands down to rest on the waistband of Alec's breeches and toyed with the buttons, slow smile curving his lips as Alec bit off a curse and covered Richard's hands with his own, the ruby on his finger gleaming deep and bright as blood in the candlelight. When Richard looked at him, his eyes were nearly black, surrounded by a thin ring of green, and he thought how much better that was than the opposite, when Alec was drugged on something other than brandy, pain, and the promise of a good fuck.

"Richard." A plea and a warning, the slow drawl of the Hill disappearing with the urgency of his need. It sent an answering shiver of need through Richard, heat like high noon in summer blazing to life under his skin.

Richard grinned. "Patience."

Alec rolled his eyes and pinched the web of skin between Richard's thumb and forefinger before moving his hands to Richard's breeches and quickly undoing the buttons. Richard gasped when Alec's cool, dry hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed. Alec was clumsy with his off-hand, and the next gasp he wrung from Richard was one of discomfort.

"You should have paid more attention to which hand you used," Richard chided him, laughter underlying the scold.

"Next time," Alec said, his mouth pressed to Richard's jaw, and Richard knew better than to expect that there wouldn't be a next time. "But now, like a swordsman, I shall learn to use my off-hand, so no injury can stop me." He licked Richard's breathless laugh from his mouth, hand stroking lazily now, the friction not enough, not ever enough for Richard, who thrust up into his grip with a low needy sound. Alec did not increase his pace. That was Alec for you.

Richard closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his emotions too close to the surface, and he wasn't sure that Alec wanted his joy the way he seemed to crave his anger, or if it was just the loss of control, regardless of the reason, that pleased Alec best.

Alec thumbed the head and Richard gasped again and swallowed hard, willing to give him this, unspoken gratitude for his unexpected return. He thought Alec would understand.

"You'd think I could do this all day," Alec murmured, "but I might get bored. I am terribly, easily bored, Richard. You know that." And he added a twist on the upstroke, bent forward to lick at the pearly fluid beading at the tip. He used his elbow to shove Richard back against the cushion so he could sit on his legs. Richard moaned, and let Alec have his way.

There was the heat of his mouth first, sloppy and wet, Alec's usually sharp tongue soft and slick against him, and then, just as Richard thought he could bear no more, Alec pulled off. He stood quickly, fumbling for the oil from the night table and then shoving his breeches down without any of the care Richard had shown for his clothes. He knelt over Richard and slicked first his fingers and Richard's cock with oil, then slipped his hand between his legs. Richard watched intently, the insistent ache in his cock almost unbearable at the sight of Alec's long fingers sliding inside his hole. He reached down to wrap a hand around the base, to keep some semblance of control, for now at least. 

"Look at you," Alec said, shifting forward to put his hands on Richard's shoulders and raise himself up, "letting an injured man do all the work." 

Richard's huff of laughter turned into a growl as Alec slowly sank down onto his cock, thin sheen of oil making it easy, letting him push in deep. Alec rode him hard, eyes closed and lower lip caught between his teeth, all his scholar's concentration going to this, hotter than the light of the stars could ever be. Richard reached between them, played with Alec's balls before wrapping a hand around his cock, letting Alec's rhythm set the pace of his strokes. He tangled his other hand in Alec's hair, drew him close for a heated kiss, speaking his gratitude with his fervent tongue. 

Heat and pleasure licked down Richard's spine, coiled low and tight in his belly before unraveling with an explosion of white light that put the duchess's fireworks to shame. 

He was vaguely aware of Alec's fingers twining with his to continue to stroke Alec's cock until he came with a loud, keening cry, spurting wet and white over their bellies. And then Alec collapsed against him, soft and pliant as a kitten begging to be petted. He was asleep almost instantly. Richard stroked his hair and shifted to rearrange them more comfortably on the chaise.

Before he fell back to sleep, Richard noticed the cat sitting on the table amidst the shredded paper that the fish had been wrapped in, licking its chops. The fish itself was no doubt long gone. Oh, well, he thought. The cat deserved a treat, too. There would be time enough to shop in the morning.

end

***

**Author's Note:**

> First three lines come directly from the novel.


End file.
